Looking for a Sherlock, Moriarty, or Mycroft

Hm, you're right. I added to my post above. ^^

Looking forward to read it. ^^

Personal note; someone give me this (from a tumblr Mycroft RP) and said that it reminds her to me, “Would you rather I replied confirming that you are old but also in agreement that this is not your fault, or I attempted to make you feel good about your age while simultaneously suggesting another reason for your - ah - inactivity?” Pfff... hahahahahah XD

I'll write more and then I'll give it to you guys to read. 

XD I can see why you were reminded of her, lol. 

Glad to finally be back home. It snowed overnight, and the next day was unbelievably cold and icy. Perfectly suitable for our Iceman. 

Now I have image of Mycroft bundled in winter gears complete with thick gloves and is making an entire army of snowmen who supports the exaggerated features of moronic people he have to constantly deal with every day. He plan to smash those later as stress-reliever.

But if he doesn't smash them soon, they'll melt away. And that image of him was basically me, except I managed to build myself a snow castle. I barely fit in it, but it was perfect for my sister.

... Doesn't compute.

Salt water.

What do you mean?

Also, added a few hints as to what teen Katrina is like in the new RP post. ^-^

thearchenemy wrote:XD I can see why you were reminded of her, lol. 

This.

thearchenemy wrote:And that image of him was basically me, except I managed to build myself a snow castle. I barely fit in it, but it was perfect for my sister.

And this.

Are you by any chance not an English native speaker? Because it seems that you've been addressing my friend who is not here with the first quoted reply.

Yes, I noticed your latest entry to the game.

Oh, that was a typo. Well, I hope you know what I meant. No, I'm technically not a native speaker, but I know English the best.

About Jeffrey McCullough, what is your design for him if he actually is Katrina's father? Short and long term.

thearchenemy wrote:My answer to Question 1 is yes, absolutely. I'm open to change on most things, and I think it would make a splendid plot twist. I am disappointed in you, Sherlock., for using a Muse CD as a coaster. CD cases work way better. And can I have both of your brains? If asking nicely won't work I might have to steal them, so watch out. Finally, major correction: Katrina is not the owner of a company, she works for one.

Great! I hope it gives you something extra to get your teeth into playing. I love rp-ing and writing something that stretches me a bit. I've not tried CD cases for coasters, thanks for the tip Katrina works for a company - got it.

I'd never have guessed that English wasn't your first language. I've tried to learn some basics of other languages and about the culture because it's sort of only fair to make that effort, but it interests me too.

English is a confusing language but I've been constantly learning more about it, even after speaking it fluently for most of my life. I think that it was when I was allowed to explore the internet that I finally discovered my love for writing.  And I know bits and pieces of Italian, French, Spanish, and Middle English from choir. I don't know if it will be of much help to me later on, but it's fun singing in other languages.

I finished the teen Katrina writing thing. I will send in a separate post, as it's a bit long.

Warning: unedited, potentially harmful to eyes.




Katrina was sitting on a rock, her mud-caked jeans rolled up to her knees as the freezing early spring water ran over her bare legs. Her scuffed sneakers sat beside her, dirty socks tucked into them neatly. She had ran wherever her legs took her, and today it was the creek. Coating the large rock was a thin sheet of ice that crackled to the touch. It meant that there was the possible danger of slipping into the water that was full of pointy stones, broken branches, ice shards, and all sorts of other fun things. She wasn't worried about getting hurt, but rather what Sally's parents would think if they saw her that way. They already worried about her enough, and it honestly got annoying. She had already busted her lip and had multiple bruises along her side from getting into a fight with someone from school. They made her stay home all weekend after that one.

Technically, it was Sunday evening, but she was eager to get out so they finally let her go. None of them, especially Sally, understood her need to get away. She was constantly pestering her about what she did while she was out. Was she doing drugs? Was she doing it with random boys? The truth was, she didn't really do much of anything. Occasionally she would bring her notebook and write, or maybe a book to read. She needed to be alone and was frequently angry, so that probably explained her lack of friends and excess of enemies. Most of the time she didn't even know why she was in a fight or how she provoked her opponent; it was usually just to let steam off. Sally had stopped being surprised a long time ago on the days that Katrina came home covered with blood, whether hers or someone else's. She was easily bribed, so Mr. and Mrs. Donovan wouldn't know most of the time. They didn't really mind her going out, though, not even that one time when she spent a whole day trekking up a mountain with no gear or protection whatsoever. As long as she didn't get hurt they were alright with it. Which was fine with her, except for the fact that she tended to get hurt easily. It didn't help that she was of the female sex and had thinner, estrogen-rich skin. Not to mention that she didn't eat nearly enough food for the amount of physical activity she partook in.

It didn't matter. None of it mattered. She thought of her parents sometimes, but tried not to as much as possible. It made her too emotional, and it reminded her of her hunch that they were murdered. There were more important things on hand. What she would do after school. Figuring out college. Where she would live when she moved out. Getting herself a job. Dealing with the huge amount of money her parents left behind. What changes she would make to herself when she left. She wanted to dye her hair, that was for sure. A few weeks before she grabbed a pair of scissors and a and chopped off all of her hair. She was particularly pissed that day. Sally's parents got really mad at her for it, and blew up at the idea of dying her hair when she asked about. Oh well, it was worth a try. Perhaps blue would look nice, an electric blue. Or a pale lavender. Fiery red. She could try it out on Halloween, the only time when she was allowed to colour her hair. She didn't want the boring brown hair given to her when she was born. It carried the memories of the past that she was desperately trying to let go of.

Katrina pushed a hand through her hair. It still felt odd having it that short, but she'd get used to it. Her eyes looked boring to her too, but her eyesight was fine and contacts weren't an option. That was alright, hair would have to do. Contrary to what Sally seemed to think, she wasn't doing anything illegal. Or at least, most of the time. She'd gotten stoned a few times and took a puff of a cigarette once. And she was pretty sure the fights weren't exactly legal either. But usually it really was just her sitting in the open, sometimes thinking, sometimes staring off. Though she'd done some pretty odd things that made people question her mental stability, she kept her grades up. Not many believed her when she told them she was a straight A student, but when she wasn't out, she was cooped up in her room studying. She read through some of Sally's textbooks sometimes too, and she was usually available to help her out when she was having trouble understanding something. It was the only time they bonded over anything. Despite Sally being the older sibling, it felt like it was the other way around. Katrina could always tell how she was feeling and left Sally alone when she felt it was appropriate. It got boring sometimes, being the smartest person she knew. She wanted to debate with someone deeply about the most random and insignificant things. She wanted someone that would challenge her to spout all the trivia she knew. It didn't matter if they were an enemy or a friend or both. She was always after knowing things, even if they were totally useless. There was once a time when she spent an evening reading about fashion design and its industry just because she felt like it. Ha! As if she could ever be a clothing designer. She would never be able to take herself seriously.

She glanced at the creek, then back at the rock, trying to figure out a way to get off of the rock without falling into the creek. Her feet were so numb they were practically frozen. Slowly, she lifted each leg out of the water and cautiously stood with her shoes in hand, preparing to hop over to dry land. And then, as she began to crouch, she lost her footing and toppled backwards. "Fuck!" The icy water rushed over her, and dagger-like stones made sharp cuts on her exposed legs as she flailed about in a panic. Thankfully, before she could float further downstream, a branch snagged onto the collar of her windbreaker, poking furiously at the back of her neck but quite possibly saving her life. Her heart was pounding loudly, and she breathed heavily as she tried to calm down and have a look at her surroundings. Her shoes were long gone, and her body was not reacting well to the water that painfully and relentlessly washed over her. She managed to twist herself around and grab onto the branch, unhooking her jacket from it. She pulled herself back onto land with painful effort, numb hands and chattering teeth. Perhaps she'd find her shoes another time, but for now she had to get back home. She lay on her back on the dirt and leaves for a while, trying to get the feeling back into her arms and legs. Whatever she went through, she never called for help. They insisted on her calling if she ever needed anything, but she never did. That wouldn't change now. Besides, she didn't even have her phone with her. She hobbled back up to the trail that led to the house, wincing with each step. Some of the gashes the rocks made were surprisingly deep, and though none of them were profusely bleeding, it hurt a lot more now she could feel her legs. She almost regretted getting out of the water, but she knew that if she didn't leave, bad things would happen. By the time she was at the back door, the moon had risen. She cursed quietly. Mr. Donovan would be watching telly at this hour, and she was left with the choice of staying outside and risk getting cold and having her injuries worsen or going in and getting in trouble again but being able to get fixed up. She stood there for a long time, but finally she opened the door and walked in. Without looking at Mr. Donovan, she did her best to try and dart up the stairs. She had almost made it halfway up when she heard, "Katrina, come down here."

She let out an audibly annoyed sigh. "Remember, it's Trina," she mumbled, slowly making her way down the stairs, going at a rate slower than necessary. She was hoping something would save her from her fate, but finally she was at the last stair and there was no getting out of the situation. Grabbing her hiking stick that was sitting against the wall, she stood in front of Mr. Donovan. The TV was playing some sort of game show that he seemed to be very much into, but he turned it off when he took a look at Katrina. He opened his mouth to say something but then closed it again like the goldfish he was, resorting to calling over Mrs. Donovan, who was doing dishes. He wasn't one to talk very much, he mostly agreed with what his wife said and did. She stood there, ignoring the pain shooting up her legs as she leaned against the stick for support. At last, she came over, and Katrina took a deep breath, preparing herself for what would come.

Mrs. Donovan took one look at Katrina and just stood there for a few seconds. Finally, she said, "Trina, you're bleeding from your legs, neck, and hands." Her tone was calm but shaking. Clearly angry with her. 

"It's not that bad, I can--"

"No, you can't take care of it yourself! Why don't you get into that head of yours that risking your life isn't a game? One day, I swear, you're going to break a few bones, and then we'll see how fun it is to go jumping off cliffs or whatever it is you do!" There it was, the explosion. She inwardly flinched at her interruption, but kept her face flat.

"It was an accident this time. I slipped into the creek. And we don't have cliffs anywhere nearby, not to my knowledge," Katrina said levelly. Keeping calm now would have a negative effect later, but it was important at the moment. Mrs. Donovan didn't understand that to her, her health and body didn't matter in any way. For all she cared, she could rot in a ditch. As long as she had her brain and could use it, nothing else was given much thought. It wasn't as if anyone really liked her, anyway. All the love the world had to offer to her had left when her parents crashed that damn car. 

"Why don't you just stay home for a while, to let yourself heal? If you won't stop going out and hurting yourself, at least maintain yourself! Now go up and shower, I'll be there in twenty minutes with the medical kit," she ordered. Katrina sighed and said nothing but started up the stairs again.

Sally was leaning against the wall near the staircase. She had been listening in. She looked up. She wasn't in the mood to deal with her right now, and she tried to walk past her. Unfortunately, she began speaking. "Got hurt again, did ya?" Katrina grunted, fixing her eyes on her bedroom door and opening it. "Why do you always get hurt so much?" She asked. Sally was really asking for it this time.

"Because I don't let myself get pampered by Mummy and Daddy and I don't care about myself," Katrina growled, about to swing the door shut. 

"What Mummy and Daddy? You don't have parents, remember? Or did you really think my parents will ever be yours too?" Something in her snapped and she threw herself onto Sally, putting a hand on her mouth and using her other arm as a chokehold. She tried to scream but Katrina didn't allow her to, and she struggled with all of her energy.

"If you mention my parents to me ever again, I will murder you. I am in no way joking when I say that. Don't try to test me, because you will never be able to defeat me," Katrina snarled with an intensity even she didn't think was possible. Without waiting for a reply from Sally, she let her go and finally went into her room, locking the door.

It was a plain room, not a single poster or anything of the sort covering the walls. The walls were white, giving the illusion of space. In the corner was a twin size mattress with white blankets, sheets, and pillows, and beside it a little blue stool that acted as her nightstand. On the stool was a flashlight and stupid vitamin gummies Mrs. Donovan forced her to take, even though she was fifteen and they were meant for seven year olds. According to her, vitamins shouldn't  be limited to children, whether gummies or not. In another corner was a small bookshelf that was overflowing with books she had forgotten to return to the library and a few of her own books. There was a black beanbag beside the mess for her to sit in while she read. In the third corner was a dresser that was surprisingly neat, with labelled drawers and everything. Unfortunately, her clothes never made it there. There simply wasn't time for her to iron and fold her clothes, never mind getting them into drawers. Most of her clothing lay on the ground or was still in the basket. The three corners plus the door took up most of the space in her room, along with the random things that lay about. Any extra space was for when she sat on the floor.

She took off all of her wet clothing and wrapped her towel around herself before going into the bathroom across the hall. Sally was nowhere to be seen, and she was thankful for that. She didn't want to fight naked anyway. Turning on the shower, she hung her towel on the rack and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked gaunt and thin but still somehow muscly. Her bangs were uneven on one side, but she thought it looked a bit cool. Finally, when the heat fogged up the mirror, she stepped in, hissing quietly as the hot water came into contact with her wounds. It felt nice but it burned at the same time. It didn't hurt as much as it used to, but it was still her least favourite part of getting hurt. Finally she was back in her room with black shorts and an old green shirt with a kitten on it. She had bought it two years ago with her friends as a joke on her name. It felt as though a lifetime had passed since then, even though it was really not that long. She grabbed a smaller towel and rubbed the glistening droplets of water out of her hair, sitting on her bed for a while. It had been twenty minutes, and after another five, Mrs. Donovan came in. She said nothing but took her place beside the bed, beginning to tend to Katrina after she lay down. A few minutes went by in silence, and then she said quietly, "I don't know how you'll ever survive on your own. Especially in a city like London."

Katrina was a little startled. "How do you know I want to live in London?"

"I heard you talking to yourself about it." Her eyes softened a little, and she gave a little smile. 

"Well, I've been considering other places too. Glasgow, Liverpool. And out of the country, there's Bordeaux or Nantes. Barcelona. Copenhagen. Amsterdam. I might even go to America." At that point she was thinking aloud, though she started off defensively.

"Those are all cities on the coast, aren't they?" Katrina smiled a little. She had caught on. Seeing the smile, she asked curiously, "Why be close to the ocean, then?"

"No idea. I like the sea, I guess. Not much else to it," she shrugged a little. "Besides, I heard there are a lot of books in major cities near oceans." 

Mrs. Donovan laughed. "Silly girl, I'd like to see who would be able to tame you." 

Katrina half smiled. "I think I'll be just fine alone."

"Oh, that's what all you kids say, but just wait another couple of years. You'll find the one." Would she? She didn't think so, but it wouldn't be something for her to consider until later. After the last bandage was set in place, she left the room, leaving Katrina to her own devices. She glanced a book, considering going over to start reading it, but decided against it. She realised that she was very tired and switched off the lights. She gingerly walked back to her bed, laying down and falling asleep almost immediately.

Whew, what a day for Katrina.

Just another regular day for her, lol. How is she different to Katrina in the RP, in your opinion? I tried to set a few distinct differences in place.

This one is more impulsive and still have to find way to channel her anger productively.

Right, that's definitely true. Anything else?

She was active and used to have fun. She had plans and hopes, dreams. Dealt with things directly even if it meant fighting, she bottles it up now. She slept better then too.

She doesn't fight as much anymore but her naturally violent tendencies come up occaisionally. She still won't hesitate to throw a punch at anyone that angers her enough.

Ouch, is that what I can expect for when she finally have Mycroft in her custody?

Oh, yes. Worse than a few punches and kicks, though. She'd want to make him feel the pain she did. Also, to answer your question from the RP, I don't see the connection between teatime and Sherlock beginning to investigate. Unless you intend for Sherlock and Katrina to begin working together from the very start of the case rather than Katrina joining in when he leaves town. If it is the former, then I don't think it would be that big of a problem. We could have both on the same day.

Hope I answered that on rp thread.

Yep, I think that problem's solved.

Mmhmmm.... Another thing. I am curious about why Katrina did not deduce Mycroft even inside her mind last time, he must stand on the top of stairs for minutes.

Remember that she is a bit scared of him, so she didn't want to be full on staring at Myc like she would anyone else. She has the irrational fear that he might see her true intent if she looked at him too long.

Found another Katlock song (*sigh* there are so many): House Of Memories by Panic! At The Disco.